The Girl I Left Behind Me
by CinstinnaRedFawn
Summary: A redone and updated version of Love in the Land God Gave to Cain. Living in the western frontier of North Carolina, Leah Colley falls in love with an officer of the King's army.
1. Chapter 1

Part 1

**In the Land Given to Cain**

Leah Colley set down her weaving, pushing a strand of her long hair out of her eyes. She was angry at herself for making yet another stupid mistake. Now she would have to undo the stiches and do it all over again. She felt overwhelmed. There were so many things to do to prepare for winter, a scarce three months away. She sighed with frustration. For the past year she had kept her family's farm together, all by herself. Her father and older brother had gone off to fight in the War so many long months ago, leaving her completely alone. She did not know on whose side they fought for: the King's or for the hopeless ideal of freedom that the rebellious colonials upheld, as they had refused to tell her. As her father had readied and mounted his horse to go to fight he had felt a pang of guilt at seeing her standing there alone, possibly the only such that he had ever felt in his life,and had half-heartedly ordered her brother Thomas to stay behind with her. It had not mattered much at all to Leah as the pair had never liked one another, but at least he had helped her. She had only ever loved the family's bond servant, Samuel, but he had died when she was twelve. He had protected her from her father's rages, taking the blame and whippings she should have gotten. Her father, when he knew how close they had gotten soon after sold him to a mean-looking man named Hezekiah Grift who shot Samuel in the back with his rifle as he tried to run away. She swore to never forgave her father for that.

Five months later Thomas had forgotten his promise to their father and had left to join up with the Loyalist colonial calvary, taking their last horse, Whiskey, with him. She quickly learned how to manage all that her brothers had previously done around the farm, as well as the chores that had always been hers. This spring she had flirted with and later convinced the neighboring Martin boys to come plow and help her plant the fields, but they had both joined the colonial militia soon after. A long time passed before she saw any of the King's soldiers, until three of them, lost, rode up to her that day.

She stood abruptly, determined to rest and take some time for herself. Ever since she had been left on this farm in the wilderness alone she never had any time to herself. Her days were filled with an endless string of farm and household duties. She had even given up going to Sunday Meetings. She missed the solace she had found there terribly. She felt a wave of anger rush over her at her father, making her feel even hotter in the sweltering air. It was late summer and the humidity was suffocating. _Like breathing through wet linen_. She would much rather take a swim in a pond deep in the woods, a place only she knew about…

Suddenly she heard the pounding of horses' hooves. Her chore forgotten, she walked out onto the roofed porch. Their canteens and gear rose and fell against the saddles in time with the horses' strides, making an odd rattling sound. Their horses, coming towards her at a brisk trot, kicked up the rust-colored dirt of the road, and Leah squinted to see them more clearly. Their red soldier's coats gleamed brighter than a cardinal's wing; as their metal gorgets and sword buckles bounced and glittered in the sun…

The trees had loomed close to them on all sides of the deer trace these colonials called a road on which they had traveled since morning. It seemed not to offer cool shade but cruelly trapped the heat, making it nearly unbearable. Andrew Fletcher had been in the colonies for only three months and still he had not gotten used to this land with its mixture of swamps and humid forests. The air always felt uncomfortably wet, as though it was just about to rain, but it never did. In fact, he didn't think he had seen it rain for close to a month. The sky seemed nearly to be always cloudless, the sun shining brightly. His body tried in vain to cool him, but it was no use as the sweat would not evaporate from the rough wool of his waistcoat. _Truly, it must be as they say,this _is_ the land God gave to Cain_, he thought to himself. Then he had seen the house, at the end of…what had that farmer told him this was, _Chataluchee_ road? Along the _Monangahela_ creek… or had it been the _Swananoa_? He had not seen a creek or any body of water for that matter, but it did not matter now that they had come across this homestead. It all sounded like nonsense to him. In his opinion, these colonials should have given the natural and man-made formations proper, English names and not simply borrowed the names the natives had given them.

He looked up at the blue and gray mountains that rose off in the distance as he passed a field full of knee-high corn with his men in tow. He knew the locals called them the Smokey, or the Iron Mountains. He had to admit he admired them for they were beautiful and nothing so large was to be found in England. His gaze settled next on a lopsided fence that seemed to have large gaps of missing sections of the wooden logs. It surrounded what seemed to be a well-tended garden, and he could not help but notice how the whitewash paint was beginning to chip and flake off the porch. He stopped his mount in front of the two-storied and simply furnished farmhouse and saw the girl standing there with obvious nervousness. She had light brown hair that fell in waves to the middle of her back and wore a cream-colored dress over a simple white shift. It made him think of what the Colonel had told him on the ship to this place, that none of the women of the colonies were anything to look at or of quality; all were backwater farmer's daughters. He had ignorantly believed him. His superior officer had been wrong, for this girl was pleasing to look at. He smiled at her, and she shyly smiled back at him.

"My men and I have been wandering about for quite some time, and well… we are rather lost. Might we not call upon your kind hospitality?"

"If it pleases you, sir. Though I must warn you, I live by humble means and---"

"Anything you can offer will be a most appreciated service to His Majesty the King."

She hesitated and then nodded.

"Thank you, Miss…?" 

"Colley."

"Miss Colley." Another officer sitting on his horse gave her a strange smile which unnerved her; she looked away. _He's being kind by asking me, of course. We both know by law I must give all of them shelter in my own home, a meal and anything else they want for they are the King's soldiers._

The sound of her voice reminded Andrew of those who worked on his family's estate in the countryside back in England. But these colonials of Carolina had a distinct drawl unlike any other he had ever heard; it seemed to became stronger and more pronounced the more deeply you ventured into these wilderness parts. He had found it slightly difficult to understand the locals at first, but hers especially pleased him. 

She told the man who had spoken he and his fellows could settle their horses in the barn for the night. The others looked surprised and irritated, and Leah realized that they had expected her to take care of the horses for them. The second soldier who had smiled strangely at her began speak but the soldier who had spoken silenced him with a look, turned towards her and nodded his thanks. She turned to go inside and headed for the cellar. Evening was coming and yet it was still far too warm for anything to be cooked over a fire. As the officers filed in and she began to set the table, she began to feel a bit ashamed at the simplicity and roughness of her home. She guessed that these men were wealthy and no doubt used to much better fare than hominy and venison. For the last six months the only guests she had entertained had been her father's friends, two Cherokee trappers named Ousamequin and Maugin. They had occasionally visited after a winter spent hunting furs west of the mountains in Cantuckee as long as she could remember. As she lit two candles she wondered what these strange foreign men thought of her. Was she just an unnoticeable, common girl to them? Her father had told her she was nothing to look at, and yet Samuel had often said she was pretty…

She hadn't thought it safe to serve spirits to these men, seeing as she was a woman alone with stranger men as it was, but almost as soon as they had sat down they had brought out their own supplies of wine and brandy. She opened her mouth to demand that they put it away, when the first officer who had spoken to her and asked her name met her eyes. She was silenced by the striking color of them; blue as the sky and clear as the pond she so often visited. She felt her stomach flutter as if she had swallowed butterflies. Her protests died on her lips as he smiled at her, and she felt her face smile in return without at first being in command of it…

As she waited on these men and they became more rowdy with drink she found herself again and again meeting his eyes. The first time she had flushed red and did not look again for a

long while, shyly embarrassed. They had removed their red waistcoats as the heat and dampness in the air had not seemed to dissipate as night fell and wore only their white shirtsleeves. Then, as the night wore on, Leah became more and more bold; standing near him but far enough away so that he could always gaze upon her, meeting his eyes often and brushing his hand as she poured the wine for him. She found she wanted him to look at her.

The soldier who had smiled strangely at her laughed drunkenly at a joke the other had said. She knew his name now to be Sowerby. He motioned to her for more brandy. "God, I can't wait to be gone from this hellish place. I've had enough of the wilderness …Damn to hell these rebels. They want freedom but they cannot survive on their own. These colonials cannot handle independence. They'd come crawling back on their bellies, begging for us to have them back…"

The second soldier and the youngest, called Kilroy by his fellows, grinned at her and leaned his head upon his hand, "And where do your loyalties lie, girl?"

Leah froze, in the middle of pouring brandy for the other man. She felt the officer with blue eyes look at her and she straightened. She looked to him before lowering her eyes and said the only thing she could possibly say in their presence, "With His Majesty, the King, of course." She hoped they would not see how she lied, that she did not care who won, only she wanted this war to be over.

Sowerby, addressing Kilroy's previous statement but leering at Leah said, "Well, there's one thing I will say about these colonials. Their women are awful pretty." He smirked and raised his cup mockingly, as if in honor of her.

_She doesn't know what she's doing_, Andrew thought to himself. Now that they had begun to pay more attention to her, she openly flirted with them and did not ward off their advances as they reached for her. He was half drunk. She was so innocent, she likely never had been courted or flirted with a man before. Boys maybe, but she clearly doesn't know what they'll expect afterwards. She could not be in her twenties yet, still a girl. Poor thing, if he didn't do something she'd soon lose that charming innocence. His fellows had not been in the company of women in a long time… He looked to her again. She _was _pleasing to look at, even in her simple homespun dress. She had given him looks all night, it was obvious she favored him above the others. He had beckoned her close to him with an amused look on his face, spoken to her when the other two men had been in a heated argument. He had asked her name and why she lived alone. He had not missed the hurt on her face as she explained how her family had abandoned her to fight in a battle not far off and had not returned. She had mentioned her twin brother fought with the loyalist light calvary, but as for her father and eldest brother she had said nothing. Yes, he would have to do something to keep her out of the hands of Kilroy and Sowerby…

The girl had left to fetch something when Sowerby turned towards him. "Lucky bastard. You know she's been giving you eyes all night. After you have her, you'd better let us have a piece of her…" Andrew let a smug look cross his face. He'd pretend that he'd had her and put on a show as if he didn't want to share her. It would make them both hate him, but frankly he did not care. They'd be gone tomorrow, and she would soon be forgotten by all of them.

Leah came back to the table to clear away the dishes, food and wine. "If you are ready to retire, I will show you gentleman where you'll be sleeping." Sowerby grabbed at her wrist and held her so that she could not go. Kilroy asked, his speech slurred, "Well, we want to know is---will you accommodate---"

"What we want to know is," at this Sowerby stroked her back with his hand as he had done many times that night. "How much do you want?"

She looked confused. "This is a service for His Majesty, I won't ask for anything---"

"Really? You'd give each of us a round for free? What a lass!" He tried to kiss her.

Leah pushed him away but the man still held onto her arm and began to pull her onto his lap. She looked at Andrew, her eyes pleading.

He stood. "No. I want her."

The other man frowned. "But---"

"It's my right to have her first, you know that Sowerby." He looked at the girl, trying to make her understand.

Sowerby let go of her but glared in hatred at him. The look on Leah's face spoke of her obvious relief. He nodded to the girl for her to show the other two where they would be sleeping. He did not have to say he expected her in his room after. She gave the man named Kilroy Nathan and Thomas' room and Sowerby her father's. Kilroy gave her a look of longing before he shut the door, and Sowerby followed her with his eyes as she went to where Andrew stood and entered her own bedroom after him.

"Listen, Miss Colley," he said in a rush as soon as he shut the door. "I've no intention of forcing you, I just had to save you from them. I know you've never been had by a man before, and… I could not let them take advantage of you."

"I am grateful, but…" Leah looked at him for the first time. Her face fell. "You don't want me. I'll leave you."

He touched her face, he had not seen the tears on her cheeks before. "I want you. God, I do. More than you know…" He ran his thumb along her jaw and he saw for the first time her eyes were not simply brown, but rimmed and flecked with green. She only looked at him, and the light of the moon shone in her hair and on her face, making her skin glow as if made of ivory. Before he knew it his hands were on her, in her hair, and she turned her head to kiss him.

It was long moments before he could stop himself. "No. You deserve someone who will stay with you, and I cannot. I---"

"_Please_. I want you to. I want…I want you to be the first to have me." He began to shake his head. Lost in passion she leaned forward and kissed him boldly, coaxed him to touch her once more.She did not have to plead with him much longer until his lustful desires overtook him.

Leah woke that next morning and looked into the startling blue eyes of the foreign army officer in bed next to her. He reached out and stroked her brown hair from her face. He smiled at her and she felt her heart race faster, her face flush red. He had already dressed, and she knew he would soon leave. He carried her out of the bed and let her dress. She did not cry; only looked at him, intent on putting all of his features to memory like a man who knows blindness will soon be upon him. She looked at his face for long moments before turning away and heading down to prepare a meal for the soldiers to take on the way. Before she was ready they had all readied to go. He did not miss the jealous looks of his fellow officers sitting on their horses as he kissed her hair. He began to walk off the porch towards his horse, making only a few steps before he seemed to have second thoughts and came back to her. He gave her a simple ring, made of gold.

She looked at it. "I don't understand---"

He said softly, so only she could hear, "In case you need to explain to others…" He glanced at her waist. She followed his glance. Taking his meaning she took the ring from his fingers. It was not a wedding band, but she could see that from afar someone could easily mistake it for one. The kindness behind this action brought the tears she had forced back to come flooding into her eyes.

Andrew rode off, never looking behind him. He was sure this trouble with the rebelling colonials would soon be over and he could return home across the ocean. He heard Sowerby, next to him hum the melody to a song popular with the foot soldiers,

_Soldier, pretty soldier, will you marry me?,  
__Oh no, sweet girl that never can be.  
I've a wife back in London and children twice three.  
Two wives in the army is too many for me._

He smiled though he knew the other man meant to taunt him. He was in far too good a mood to let his jealousy anger him. She was a pretty girl, accomodating of his desires as a man, but he was sure he would forget her within a short time. He would soon find out how very wrong he was.


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

**For Fear of the Sting**

"Please, Miss, for the love of God help him!" The sight of blood made Leah feel like she was going to be sick, reminding her of the nausea that had been plaguing her for the past few days. These two were rebels, part of the colonial volunteer militia. The soldier who had been run through with a bayonet had his arm draped over his fellow's shoulder, his face deathly pale. She took a step back and drew in a shaky breath to steady herself.

"Take him inside…in the sitting room. I'll be there shortly." She turned away at the moan of pain the man let out as his friend half-carried him up the steps and into the house. She didn't want to think about why she felt so faint and sickened by the blood and gore. Her father, a doctor, had made her assist him many times and she had not been bothered by it then. Half a dozen soldiers had come by begging for aid in the past three days for there had been a battle not far off. _This is ridiculous._ _I must stop being such a…_ Suddenly she began to heave and choke, though nothing came out since she had not eaten breakfast yet. A weight settled heavily upon her. She could not deny what she had suspected to be true for much longer, but for now she would. She did not have time to dwell on it. She followed the two inside.

She began ripping pieces of linen sheets into strips to be used as bandages. She then took the uninjured soldier's hand in hers and pressed it against the other's leg, on top, right below the hip.

"Press hard, you're pressing the artery against the bone, it'll keep him from bleeding to death on us." She tried to wrap more bandages around the injured man but he jumped and screamed at the pain and cried that he did not want to lose his leg. She stroked the hair at his forehead, trying to soothe him.

"Shh. You'll not lose your leg, I promise. But you _must_ stay still." It took him two spoonfuls of laudanum before he finally quieted down. Soon after they had stopped the bleeding, but Leah had a gut feeling he might not survive. He had lost far too much blood. She did not, however, tell the other this as she turned towards him.

She reached out to touch a blood-soaked part of his shirtsleeve on his side. "Are you hurt as well?" He winced. "Take off your waistcoat and lift up your shirt, I'll tend to it. And sit up here." She pointed to a table and he did as she asked. Nothing was said for long minutes by either of them, but the silence bothered neither as they regarded each other. Leah saw that he had striking features; dark hair and eyes.

"Thank you… for helping him. And me as well. I trust you are not a loyalist, are you?"

She smiled slightly. "Might I not ask you your name before you pry into my politics?"

He flushed. "I am sorry. That was rude of me, when you have been so kind. My name is Samuel."

Leah jumped at the name, bumping his cut. "I'm sorry. My name is Leah. As for your earlier question.. not exactly."

"So you are a Tory?". Leah did not catch the look of disgust that had crossed his face. "But you helped us. I do not understand."

She wrapped a dressing around his middle. "There. You should do well.." She looked up at him again. "I believe that when a person needs help, I am bound by God's will to help him if I can. Even if he _was_ my enemy."

"Do you not believe in freedom from these tyrants? Why should we not rule ourselves?"

"I am already free, those of us who live on the frontier are bothered by none. And besides, I do not think unfair taxes are a thing to start a war over. As for the war, I meant that I have not chosen sides. I doubt I ever will." She stood and he did as well.

"I should be going. I should return to my regiment." He seemed reluctant.

"Stay for the night. I'd much appreciate it, I haven't had company in ages."

He hesitated for a moment and then smiled. "Alright. Just for one night."

They sat side by side on the swing Nathan had built on the porch, listening to the chorus of katydids and crickets and watching fireflies wink in the blue evening light. She laid her head against his chest, careful not to touch where he was injured. He ran his fingers through her hair as he rocked them back and forth.

"I never realized how beautiful it is here, in the wilderness," he said.

"You're not from around here are you?," she asked. She had suspected it when he had first spoken because his manner of speech was so much different.

"No, I hail from Virginia, but I've been here for the past six months."

"Tell me about the battle."

He took a deep breath. "We were lucky to escape at all. Bloody Ban came just as I got Matthew and we ran into them woods---"

"Who?" she interrupted.

"The Butcher. A Green Dragoon," seeing her confusion he added "A redcoat horse soldier. He doesn't give quarter to none, slaughters those who surrender and those who are cut down. He's been known to hang folks who are disloyal, burns the house and leaves the man's wife and children in it. At least that's what I heard."

"What a monster!".

"Don't let anyone know you ain't picked sides, Leah. Never even let them think you've committed treason. I'd hate to think of what would happen to a pretty girl like you…"

She looked up at him and he down at her, caressing her face. She closed her eyes, enjoying it. She liked him. He reminded her of Andrew, he was not like the others who had come before. He hands drifted ever lower before she after long moments put a stop to it.

"No. I can't."

"You are promised to him?" she had told him briefly that three of the King's men had come, requesting quarter in her house a month ago over supper.

"No—I—"

"He won't come back, Leah. He was kind to you, but he used you all the same. I know his kind. Rich, haughty, full of themselves; typical English dandy" He touched her again and she felt her resolve melting. She brushed away a stray feeling of regret at what she had done with Andrew again, soon replaced by sadness at his departure. _Forsake not the honey for fear of the sting,_ her mother had sad. She refused to believe what this man told her. Oh, but it felt so good, to be touched by a man again… She leaned toward him again, submitting to his kisses. She did not wish to argue.

The next morning Leah woke early to tend to the injured man and found him to be dead. They buried him a short distance from the fields of corn, now turning an ugly yellowish gray and withering. Both said prayers for him and wished him peace. Leah felt said for the man and wished that she could have saved him. She gave Sam some of Nathan's old clothing and a meal for him to eat on his journey. He kissed her goodbye. Neither felt regret or loss, and both knew they would never see each other again. The two had found comfort and pleasure in a time of turmoil, however brief, in each other's arms.


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

**A Heart Still Pining**

Andrew rode his horse up the narrow trace at a fast canter, praying he was on the right road. The forest looked much different now than it had last year at summer's end. The branches of the trees, now free of their flaming leaves of fall, crackled in the icy January air. Many trees were impressibly massive; he guessed ten men with linked hands could not encircle one. They grew so tall and so close together they created an enclosed canopy above him, blocking out much of the sparse winter sunlight. The silence of these woods gave him an ominous feeling, more so than hearing the beasts of the forest scream and howl at night as he had during the warmer months. He smiled grimly as he remembered that he had not slept a wink for night after night for fear of the savage wildness of this land. Now, however, it stirred and excited him deeply in a way he knew civilization never could.

His thoughts drifted back to just a few hours ago when he had sat in a tavern with other fellow officers in a nearby town to get a drunk and escape the cold. Many of the men were homesick; tired of having snowballs and rocks thrown at them by the colonials, of being outrightly hated and called "bloody lobsterbacks" to their faces when they should have been hailed as heroes. He had hoped he had finally succeeded in forgetting her as he had for several days, that is until he heard verses drift in the building from outside where some soldiers were singing. It had gone:

The hours sad I left a maid  
A lingering farewell taking  
Whose sighs and tears my steps delayed  
I thought her heart was breaking.  
I seek for one as fair as day,  
But find none to remind me.

O ne'er shall I forget the night,  
the stars were bright above me.  
And gently lent their silv'ry light  
when first she vowed to love me.  
How sweet the hours I passed away,  
With the girl I left behind me. 

His mind had turned of its own accord to the face of the girl whom he had left alone on a homestead six months ago, to which he now headed. He could not seem to stop thinking of her now, no matter how hard he tried. Even in the heat of battle, with bullets whistling past and nearly missing him and the screams of the dying crying out to him he saw her face, remembered the touch of her soft skin… This had to stop. He was being a fool. He had met many willing and accomodating southern Loyalist women, all more beautiful and of better quality than she. Yet unexplainably his thoughts always seemed to stray to her. She was, after all, a farmer's daughter and the idea of him courting her was a joke. He could not bring her back as his wife. He grimaced when he imagined the disgusted look on his father and mother's face.

He would see her one more time, see that she did well and he had no need to worry about her. He would find her less appealing in reality than he had in his dreams, and he would no longer desire her. He was a soldier, and he could not be distracted from his duties. Reaching the homestead he pulled his horse to a stop and jumped down. He had been distracted and had not realized his horse had had to labor through snow reaching the animal's knees. He looked around but found no one was there to greet him. The only sound he heard was of a woman singing.

Leah reached down to pick more of the winter squash from off the ground. She had had to dig through deep snow in order to reach them and her hands were numb and tingling from the cold. Her large belly had made her feel awkward and off balance. Here, behind the farmhouse, drifts reached almost as high as the first story. Her breath came out in great plumes like smoke. She was glad for the snowshoes Ousamequin had made for her.

She stood and surveyed the land around her and the beauty in it to catch her breath. Ice had frozen and left a thin covering on even the smallest branches of the white beech trees at the edge of the forest beyond the fields. The snow covered gray mountains rose up sharply to meet the milky blue sky. The Indian men had said that God speaks to us through the silence of His creation… Leah felt inside that something would happen today, but so far she had been disappointed. She stood still, lost in thought. The scene before her made her think of a song her mother had sung on winter days, and she began to sing it,

_Our mountains and hills and our valleys below  
Are oftentimes covered with ice and with snow.  
If any prove hearty and would it withstand  
They forfeit a finger a foot or a hand_

She felt her baby move within her and she put her hands on her big belly, barely visible beneath her bulky blankets and clothing, to soothe it.

"Don't like that one?" She hummed another and began to sing it loudly so the baby could hear.

_It was one summer's morning  
Her uncle went straightway,  
He knocked at her bedroom door,  
And thus to her did say-  
Come, rise up, pretty maiden,  
A lady you may be,  
The squire's waiting for you---_

It was then that she heard the sound of footsteps approaching, crunching through the hard-packed snow. She shaded her eyes against the sun with her hand and saw a soldier walking towards her. He was caught almost waist-deep in the snow until he reached the path Leah had made connecting the garden to the back door. She called out to him.

"Are you lost? Are you hurt? I can help you, I know something of the physick---" He stopped a yard or so from her. She felt her stomach inexplicably do a sumersault inside her.

"Leah… Do you remember me?"

The green and yellow gourds fell from her arms into a heap onto the snow and ice. Her mouth fell open in delighted surprise.

"Andrew?" She whispered, hardly daring to believe what she saw. He grinned at her as he crossed the distance to her in two short strides. "You came back." She smiled as she repeated it.

"Yes." He felt unexplainable joy at seeing her. He pulled off the scarf wrapped round her head and part of her face to see it better. He touched her cheek. His vows made to himself earlier forgotten, he lost himself in the pleasure of seeing her again. They simply looked at one another for long moments.

He was shivering and Leah could see he was not dressed properly for the cold. She laughed. "Your face, it is so red. You'll freeze if you stay out here much longer.. Come inside with me." She took his hand and led him inside to be warmed in front of the fire.

She pulled off all of her bulky clothing and many layers of blankets. Her joy at Andrew's visit momentarily dampened as she remembered she was with child. His child. She wondered how he would react. She swallowed and slowly turned around to face him. She saw his eyes widen. He jumped to his feet and came to her side. "You did not say that… that you…". He looked to her large belly in surprise.

She licked her lips and said, "You did not ask." She shyly looked at his face, searching for any trace of approval. "You are happy?" she asked timidly as a small child would.

His arms encircled her waist and he grinned proudly, like a boy. He twirled her around and around. "Happy?" He laughed at the solemn expression on her face. "Of course I am!" he said before he kissed her again and again until she smiled back at him.

Andrew sat in Leah's father's favorite rocking chair before a roaring fire, her on his lap. His arms were wrapped around her waist, his hands on her belly, determined to feel his child kick or shift inside its mother. She rested her head against his shoulder and gave a sigh of happiness. She leaned her cheek against his. The warmth of the fire made her feel sleepy.

"How much longer?", he asked.

"Another four months, I would guess."

"How have you been? You are well?"

"I've not gotten the sickness, except in the first few weeks. I threw up every day then it seemed. Since then, sir, your child has given me no complaints other than refusing to be still."

He smiled sheepishly, like he was sorry he was the cause of her previous discomfort. His hands adoringly stroked her. "I am glad…" He turned his face and kissed her tenderly. For some odd reason he desired her terribly, more than he had when he had first laid eyes upon her. His touch became more urgent, and Leah responded in turn. He stood and carried her in his arms to bed.

They spent the later half of the next morning dallying together in bed, for it felt far too cold for either of them to leave it.

"I haven't heard news for months. Who has been winning this horrible war?"

He smiled at her excitement. "There is no chance the rebels will succeed. They have yet to win a battle. You rebellious colonials will all be the King's loyal subjects once again by the end of summer."

"They could still win. There's still a chance."

He laughed. "Hardly."

Leah said nothing for a while. Then, "Have you heard of the Butcher? They say he is an evil monster who kills women and children and---"

"Yes, I know of the Colonel. Sometimes horrible things must be done in war. We must make these rebels see that they are wrong and bring them back to us. He feels it is what must be done to bring you back to heel, to make you accept the King as your sovereign again."

"You excuse him! What if he did these things to me, Andrew? Would it be alright them in the name of your King---

"He is your King as well, Leah. And the Colonel would not harm you for you do not commit treason."

Leah again lapsed into thoughtful silence. For some reason she did not wish to tell him of the illegal rebel newspapers she had read. She thought she could remain neutral, and yet had fallen in love with the ideas of liberty and a new nation where all men were free from tyranny. Why should we not rule ourselves?

He could see his words had troubled her and he quickly changed the subject. "Have you heard from your brothers? Your father?"

"Nathan sent me a letter. I've not heard from father or Tom. But then, I never really expected one." He caught the hurt look crossing her face and he nodded as he caressed her face.

Leah had fallen asleep again that afternoon and when she awoke she went downstairs to find him dressed and ready to leave. He stood and took her hands in his. "Leah, I must go. I've stayed too long already."

She felt tears well up in her eyes. "No. You haven't even been here a day. I will worry so much for you. Stay---"

He stroked her back and she leaned into him. He pulled her to look at him and he wiped the tears from her face. "Do not worry about me, there will not be any fighting now in winter. I'll come back, to see our baby. This summer, I promise."

"I want to come with you."

"You know you cannot."

She closed her eyes nodded. He kissed her one last time and held her in his arms to comfort her. As he rode away he felt a turmoil of confusing feelings. He was being a fool, losing himself in her eyes, her embrace. If she had not had a child… He knew that guilt would not simply the reason why. What had happened here had been the opposite of what he had intended. He did not know what he felt exactly, but he knew he would keep his promise and return.


	4. Chapter 4

Be Forewarned: This is a birth scene, but is not graphic, and seeks to portray more the emotions that go along with giving birth, rather than the physical.

May 1780

Leah sat on the rough wooden rocking chair on the veranda, enjoying the warm late spring air and nursing her newborn child. Pale pink and white petals fell from the branches of the dogwood trees and fluttered across the newly sprouting green grass. Her thoughts turned apprehensively to her future. She prayed that the crops would be plentiful and for a late frost so that she would be able to harvest it all by herself. She did not want to think about what would happen if they did not. She had spent the small amount of money she had hidden from her father and brothers at the beginning of the war to pay the old midwife. What had been left was a small amount of paper money the continental congress had in rebellion issued, but it had proved to be so worthless in trading she had thrown it, in exasperation, into the creek. She rocked slowly, humming a song she had invented that had no particular beginning or end, remembering back to two weeks earlier…

When she had felt the baby flip over head down inside her, she had gone to the old widow's home only a few miles down the trace, giving her all the money she had and thrusting a basketful of early chokecherries and last year's pumpkin made into a pie in her arms so that she would come home with her and stay for the birth and for a week afterwards. Although Leah had been sure her labor would begin immediately, it had not. Long days passed and nothing happened, and so the midwife had journeyed to a distant neighbor's to bring two young women Leah had know as a child before her mother had died and who now had married and had children of their own.

When Leah had looked at her in confusion, she had told her with a smile, "Nothing gets labor going like a good walk and being in the company of women what's already had babies and know what birthings about."

They had sat and had breakfast on the porch. The old woman had encouraged Leah to eat all that she pleased. At noon the midwife announced that they would be going for a long walk that might take all day. They had ventured far into the forest and came upon a small green meadow set deep in a valley between two towering mountains. Sitting on a blanket in the sun, watching wildflowers nod their heads in the breeze Leah had felt a stirring deep within. Frightened, she had jumped to her feet and had wanted to run home as quickly as possible. After much coaxing and reassurance, the midwife had convinced her to walk the long way home.

"Nothing will be happening anytime soon, child. This'll take time. The walk will do you good, and shorten the work to be done." All four women walked slowly, the others supported her and stopped when a few of the cramping twinges, a half of an hour apart and a minute long, came. The midwife had her lean against and wrap her arms around one of the women for support, spoke to her encouragingly and rubbed her back with the same amount of pressure she felt in her belly to relieve it. When they walked they chatted away happily, telling stories about their husbands and children. Their cheerfulness and obvious ease made Leah's beginning fear melt away and she soon laughed along with them.

They reached the house after a walk of several hours, settling in the main room, all in a circle around her. She felt the uncomfortable squeezing sensations of each come but she did not notice them as pains almost at all until a trickle of water escaped down her legs. The widow smiled at her and the girls all exclaimed in joy and embraced her.

"It is half done now. Now comes the hardest part." The midwife brought her outside to walk with her in the garden for another hour, encouraging Leah to tell her about her mother, her favorite memories and stories, all meant to distract her. When she felt the deep ache come, she hugged the midwife's shoulders and shuffled back and forth slowly in the dance that relieves a laboring woman her discomfort, breathing shallowly and panting a deep _ohhhh, _the sound the midwife had had her practice for days before her labor had begun. The midwife moved, breathed and sang with her.

She had Leah come back inside as evening approached and the clenching sensations she felt sweep down her belly were now only ten minutes apart. She closed her eyes as a wave of pain overwhelmed her and hurt so much more than any other had previously. It seemed as if her body would give her no break now, no sooner had one started than another crashed into her. Soon after she began to sob, feeling lost and afraid the labor would never end. She felt out of control and the fear she felt multiplied the pain until she felt as if she would surely die. It had hurt before, but it had not felt more than she could bear, not like this.

The midwife wrapped her arms around her upper back. The girl had begun, in frantic fear, to fight the powers that would very soon usher her baby into the world. "Look at me." Leah looked into her eyes, her fear showing like an animal cornered. "See that I will not leave you. Breathe like I showed you…yes. Good. Good." She stroked her hair, waited for another one to come upon her.

"We will do this together. Do not fight it. Let it wash over you. You are almost there, I am _proud_ of you. Soon your baby will be here. Do not forget that. Yes… Good. Very good… It will not go on forever. I know it frightens you, but that is only because you know you must let go. Letting go in every way possible is the hardest thing for a person to do. There. With me…" She panted and breathed with her, and Leah began to let go.

"I can do this… open… open wide… no fear, no pain…" she repeated over and over.

One of the women brought her an herbal tincture the midwife had instructed her to prepare. The plants were the same as the ones the midwife had learned from her captivity with the Pennacook tribe; she had learned under an old crone before she had been forcibly returned by her father when he discovered where she was. She had been only a few years older than the girl laboring before her was now. Leah gulped it down. The warm heat settled in her belly and soothed her, and soon after it had taken some of the edge off the pains.

As they got closer and closer together, the girls continued to sit around her and utter instinctual meaningless words of comfort and encouragement and strength and Leah began to breathe and relax again. The next few pains overwhelmed her less and less. She concentrated on the midwife's face, felt the soothing hands touching and rubbing her in all her sore places. She began to calm down even more. The woman's face was an anchor in the waves crashing into her faster and faster. Her fear had disappeared. With fear the pains had been horrible and unbearable. Now she felt strong and full of purpose, allowing the sensations she felt deep down in her belly only added to her sense of strength.

Each pain that came after hurt and moved lower and lower but she did not feel lost any longer. She suddenly got down, feeling an urgent need to crouch. The midwife nodded to the other women when she saw the expression on her face. This girl had let go much faster than many of the women she had attended in her long life. Many think it is the squeezing and pushing of the womb that causes the pain of labor, but the old widow knew better. It is about letting go in every possible way, which is the most scary and powerful feeling they will ever have. To surrender to their body, with the whole of their being. _She's letting her body do the work now_. She saw it turn into a glazed look of concentration. The girls supported her back and sides, panting and groaning in effort when she did as she pushed.

She clung to them and leaned on their bodies as support and she pushed, staring intently at the face of the midwife who squatted right in front of her. The pain, which seemed to be constant now, she felt but seemingly as if it were not a part of her; she was held fast in another world which consisted of this moment and pushing. She instinctually reached out and caught her own baby as it slid into her hands. The women all kissed her in joy, stopping their rhythmic chants of comfort when the baby was born.

"A girl!"

Leah began to cry, her happiness total. She felt as though she were soaring above the clouds. The afterbirth came from her body almost without her knowledge, she did not feel it. The midwife cut the cord when it stopped pulsing with life.

"She has her father's eyes…"

"Silly girl, all babies have blue eyes when they're born"

"Shh!"

As the baby nursed the midwife rubbed her belly to stop the bleeding. The women went upstairs to sleep and to give the two privacy. The midwife brought out a wooden bath basin, heated water over the fire. She bathed the two of them. She wrapped the two in warm blankets and kept watch as they slept.

The next day the two women left, hugging her and congratulating, exclaiming over the baby. For five more days the midwife stayed behind, cooking and taking care of both of them, instructing her in the right way to nurse her child and other things she would need to know to. Leah felt such gratitude she had tried to give the midwife anything she could to make up for the lack of sufficient coins. She had refused. "You know how birthing is done now. In these times I would do well to have an extra pair of hands. If I call on you, you will help?" 

She had of course agreed, but had been puzzled why she would want someone as young as she was as an assistant. She had only attended one birth, that being her own.

"It is enough."


	5. Chapter 5

July 1780

Her blue skirt pulled above her knees and kneeling in the sable brown earth, she extended her arm to grab an errant weed just beyond her reach. She tugged and it came out easily, moist dirt clinging to its roots. She flung it into the pile to her left. Satisfied that she had pulled every wild, creeping vine that threatened her garden she sat back on her heels. She reached among the small green leaves of a bean plant and held one of the pods in her hand to judge their size and ripeness. She snapped it open with her thumb and saw the white seeds within were only the size of her infant daughter's fingers. It would be well a month, perhaps, two, before they could be harvested and dried.

Hearing her daughter gurgling and cooing to a sparrow, she turned and looked upon her child lying on a blanket only a few feet away. Her heart swelled with love for the little creature, more than she would have thought possible. A breeze stirred the tiny brown tendrils that had just begun to sprout on her head. Her eyes had not changed to her mother's color as everyone had told her they would. She knew they would stay the same color as they were now, as they had been when she had been born; a pale blue the color of a robin's egg. The color of her father's. Her thoughts inevitably trailed to Andrew. During the day, she was so busy with keeping the farm together and running and taking care of her child that she had no time to think of him. But at night, as she lay in bed waiting for sleep to come, she would see his face, hear his voice with the strange lilts not found in this land. She did not doubt he would return if he was able. But she was simply weary with waiting and expecting his return any moment.

She looked up at the tops of the poplar and oak trees. The wind had picked up and whistled among the branches and made the top half of the tree sway, leaves fluttering wildly. The sky above was gray, the air nearly insufferably hot. She wiped sweat from her brow, and pushed back moist brown strands of hair that had come loose and stuck to her face, staggering to her feet. A storm would soon come, she knew. When one lives in wild places, they can predict nature's cycles. In summer, heat filled with sunshine was nearly always followed by pouring rain and fierce thunder at nightfall. She could feel it in the air, the heavy and dirtiness feel of it. Rain was weeks overdue, and she was glad it had finally come. She grew tired of toiling heavy buckets of water to and from the well to the plot, and constant worrying over the fields of flax and corn, wondering if they would survive. She decided she would go into the forest and find the creek to bathe. It was not far, and she could be back before the storm came close.

He shoved aside tall, yellow stalks of grass as he tried to make his way through the seemingly endless acres of canebrake. The weed grew impossibly high, twice as tall as he was and hung over the rabbit trail he was following , impeding his way. They were dry and rattled and whispered in the breeze above his head as he passed through. Several times he had seen snakes as large around as his leg slither past across the path in front of him. The cane was full of spiders, and he felt as though he would go mad if he had to brush another sticky cobweb out of his face.

To put it plainly, he was utterly lost. Disgusted and sickened by endless months of backwoods fighting, he had so badly wanted to return to her. He had been unable to think about anything but her. He felt as though he were going insane, and confused. His men had thought him so, and his concerned superior had given him two weeks furlough to spend in Charlotte. He knew that she lived in the woods west of a village called Marion, in the most recent and very least settled areas of the colony. He had rode his horse to near death, taking two days, gotten vague directions, and had then walked westerly, foolishly believing he could find her farm. He had been a fool, he realized now too late. He had been walking for three days now, and the food he had packed was nearly gone. He looked a mess, his face scratched and uniform stained and torn. Orange dust coated him, and he was miserable.

He had to admit that despite his miserable circumstances he had admired the pretty country he passed through. Fields of corn had been planted on deadened acres when bare, girdled treed stood above the stalks. True, it was a world of briars and thickets, swampy valleys and crisscrossed with rough, narrow trails. Cabins were scattered along the branches of green, slow moving rivers. Most farmers grew flax and vegetables and some had already established fruit trees in acres in ridges above the rivers. There were several towns to the east, but most of the country this far west was wild. Cherokees claimed much of the land and sometimes made hunting forays into the river valley. He had been told to not be afraid of them for they were in allegiance with the Crown and would kill all patriots they caught.

He broke through the end of the canebrake at last and fought his way through branches and limbs, stumbling towards a stand of pines. He knelt on the moss covered rocks and washed the cuts the briars had made on his hands and face. He splashed his face and drank the cold creek water, for it was intolerably hot. Clouds had not settled overhead, dark gray with rain. He startled at a sound he heard coming from upstream. He cocked his pistol and stood, hearing splashing.

She splashed water onto her face, rolling the sleeves of her shirt up to her elbows. She wore her brother's shirtsleeves and breeches, even though she was alone in the forest. The war of rebellion had raged all around her secluded farm tucked into the Nantahala foothills. Sometimes it seemed a foreign thing, with battles in the north spoken of as only rumors. Victories of the patriots at Saratoga, Trenton and Princeton. Washington's defeat at Brandywine.

But now the war had come close to home. General Cornwallis had sailed to Charlestown in March and after a two month siege had taken the city. Another British general, by the name of Campbell, had driven rebel militias out of the city and into the backcountry. Many patriots had been killed or captured. The war had gotten closer as the people of the Carolina hills took furs and stock to sell there. Living on the border between north and south, people had become nervous when the Lord General had moved his huge army of ten thousand soldiers to conquer them and meet up with the rest of the army in Virginia.

Soon after, everyone knew about his calvary commander, Colonel Tarleton. At only twenty-six he was already famous for never having lost a battle and for being a fierce fighter. While she had passed by a Methodist church on the way home from the village, she had heard men talking outside of the story of a battle near the Waxhaws. After he had won, he had ordered all men who had been captured or who had surrendered to be killed. He never took any prisoners.

Any newspapers to be had were passed along, hand to hand and were often months old and unreliable. You had to be extremely careful who saw you with a rebel or loyalist paper, for being caught possessing one was enough to get your house burned if the wrong person saw you.

Recently she had read that Andrew Pickens of the Long Canes, leader of the militia in her county, had been defeated and had been forced to swear an oath to never fight the Crown again. Now there was no one to defend the outlying settlements from the dragoons sweeping the interior of the Carolinas. They burned houses of patriots, even those suspected of being traitorous, hanging rebels from trees in front of their own houses, raping whatever women they caught and stealing whatever livestock and provisions they pleased.

She did not know what to do. Should she abandon her home and flee into the forest? Many had already done so, and already she had heard two skirmishes far off to the south, and once had come upon royal soldiers marching pass on their way to their camp to the east. She had grabbed her baby and hid in the cellar all that day and the next night, for fear that they would come. She worried for herself and for her child. Her father and eldest brother fought for the patriots. Would she be punished for their crimes? It was hard to remain calm, and she shivered despite the heat. She looked up at a patch of sky between branches of the trees, saw that the clouds were dark and ominous, and heard a distant rumble of thunder. The air smelt strangely of electricity. The creek she stood in was bitterly cold and made her legs ache. She turned to pick up her child and head towards home.

"Don't move."

She froze, sucking in air, fear coursing through her. Was he a dragoon? His voice designated him as on of the king's soldiers from across the ocean. Then she remembered she wore men's clothing, and raised her hands.

"Slowly turn. I don't want any trouble. Are you alone?" She nodded. "I want to know where I am."

He turned his face fearfully at the deep rumbling he heard, and looked afraid as the ground slightly trembled. She turned around, and as she did she saw his face.

"Andrew!" He startled at his name and pointed his pistol at her. He saw that this farmer was not a man. His eyes widened in recognition. He lowered his weapon and stared, sure that what he saw before him was not real but a dream. She rushed to him.

"Leah," he murmured against her mouth. "My Leah." His lips captured hers again, and his arms slid beneath hers to gather her to him. He swept a flurry of kisses along her face. She let him kiss her over and over again on her face, her lips. He pulled her to him as though he were afraid she would disappear from him if he did not hold her fast. She tried very hard to quell the frenzied fluttering of her heart as she met his eyes, the blood that flushed her face. She tried to speak, to tell him of her overwhelming joy at his arrival, but her head swam, her senses lost to her. She wrapped her arms around him.

Suddenly they heard the baby squalling, and she rushed from him to her baby, he followed. The pines had sheltered them from much of the rain, but now drops fell onto the baby and made her begin to fuss. The two had not noticed the wet, lost in their rapture at the unlikely but lucky occurrence at finding each other so in this copse of pines. She beamed as she lifted their baby in her arms.

"Our daughter." He looked to her in awe, before he took the fussing infant in his arms, as careful as if he were afraid of breaking her.

"I am a father… she is beautiful. Perfect." He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her close to him. The baby quieted in her father's arms.

Raindrops soon began to fall in more urgency. She unwrapped his arm from her waist and took his hand in hers. Thunder boomed closer now, and he jumped in fear. She tugged at his hand.

"Come. We must leave before the storm approaches. Its not far."

He followed her as she wound expertly through the trees, curving around sinkholes and pits of quickmud. Soon they were out of the wood and running between rows of corn. The rain poured now from the sky in torrents, and he slipped in red mud as slick as grease. He had tucked his child into his coat so that she would remain dry. As he went up the steps and into the house he saw she was as soaked as he was, her wet hair plastered to her back and strands stuck to her face. He took the now quieted baby and handed her to her mother, who wrapped her in a blanket and set her in a crib by the fire. He noticed that the air had cooled considerably.

A sudden crash made him jump and gasp aloud, startling him more than he would have liked to admit. He saw that he trembled and shivered, and reached up to touch a dark brown strand of hair at his temple. He turned and looked at her, calming.

"The thunder frightens you, doesn't it?"

He swallowed. "I have never heard a storm rage with such violence---" another crash, this one louder than before. She could see in his eyes the fear he tried to hide and smiled. She took his hand again in hers, bade him to sit next to her. He was suddenly extremely glad he was not out in the wilderness in this storm, and that he had found her.

"Don't be afraid."

"Are you not?"

She shook her head. "No. A dozen storms, sometimes far worse than this pass by each summer." She touched his face, and looked at the torn, soaked red uniform he wore. He had cuts on his face. She brought out dry clothes, and a salve for his cuts.

After they sat on the floor, a blanket wrapped around them and watched the lightning flash and thunder grumble as the storm passed them.

"How long were you lost?"

He sighed. "I left Gilberttown three days ago."

"Without a guide?"

"I know. I was a fool, thinking I could find my way through this wilderness to get to you. I just had to… to see you."

She lay against him, and with her he no longer found the great sounds terrifying, despite being at his wit's end at having had such little sleep over the past few days. He had so little energy left that she had to half carry him up the stairs and into her bed.

It was well into the next evening before he awoke again. She washed out the cups and bowls used during dinner, opening the back door and tossing the dirty water into the yard. The day had been hot, and she wore only her father's shirt, which hung to her knees. She picked a fresh strawberry out of a bowl and put it into her mouth, leaning against the doorframe to look outside, everything cast in fiery redness with sunset. She heard a shuffling sound, and turned and saw that he had been watching her from the bottom of the stairs.

"Come to me, Leah." He said, and took her hand. He drew her to his lap and put his arms around her. He reached his hands under the long shirt and felt her back. Her breath got close and short, and she felt warm. It was the best feeling, to be held that way. His touch was maddeningly sweet. His hands grew more daring, and their eyes met, suddenly they both blushed. He looked away to the wall and she towards the hearth. Missing his touches, she shyly took his hand and placed it on her again.

He began to breathe sharp and hard then She felt his pulse jumping against her back. His hands roved all over under the cloth. She felt something soft at the back of her neck and knew them to be his lips. He ran them from the hair against her neck to her shoulder, and she ran her fingers in his hair, drowning in the love reflecting from his eyes.

He was still exhausted, but he eagerly carried her upstairs to the bed. He unbuttoned her shirt slowly and pulled it over her head, coaxed her to slip under the blankets with him.


End file.
